“Rob? Rob? Rooooob,” her voice is whiny and confused, like she’s been drinking again. Somewhere in the back of her head she remembers that Bryson’s sober now. Somehow he’s better, but she’s still stuck. Stuck in the rut that her life has been since she first visited Elysium. It’s almost laughable that she hated her power before, hated feeling what others felt, with no idea if those were her feelings or theirs, if she was making them feel what she felt or if it was the other way around. It was never clear until she left them. until she was alone and realized that hunger wasn’t her own. Now she uses it to her advantage. But she knows how she feels about Rob. She’s been away from him for… months? Years? Who knew. Rob, probably. But she still felt the same, still knew she was safe with him, knew that he was her Superman, her best friend.
And that’s how she ended up on his front step, freezing her ass off on the cold concrete while she waited for him to answer the door. “Superman! You’re not acting very super.” In a short moment of clarity she remembers the kids, remembers that they might be sleeping. Because that’s what normal people do at 3 AM on Thursday mornings. Maybe she should let her Superman be someone else’s Superman for a while. She had her chance, had her memories, and she deep down she knew, she didn’t deserve his kindness anyway.
She’s not sure how she ends up there, but she wakes up to the smell of coffee. Her surroundings are a mystery until she peels her cheek away from the grease-stained linoleum. Her coat and purse are next to her in the red vinyl booth and a cup of coffee in front of her face. When she looks up, the waitress just waves her off. “Drink. You look like you could use it.” Florence sighs, knowing that the words the waitress are saying are true, but wishing it wasn’t coffee in the mug in front of her. She drinks it black.
Bryson’s voice comes out of nowhere and for a second, Florence looks for him, before she remembers that she used his latest song as her ringtone. Rob’s face lights up her screen, his cheesy smile from the selfie he sent her a couple of months ago. She doesn’t remember if she ever responded or if she just saved the picture. The call goes to voicemail. Just like the last six, according to notifications. They also tell her about the last twenty texts.
He’s worried. Shit. This was why she didn’t come back here anymore. Rob knew how to act happy to see her, how to hug her like he used to, but she always saw the pity behind his eyes, the concern. She was getting worse and he knew it. That’s really the reason she didn’t want to come back anymore, the reason she didn’t want to talk to him. He knew her too well, knew all her tells. If she saw him again, it would be admitting to it. Admitting that her life had gone off the rails and she just held on for as long as she could. But God, she was so old and still acting like a teenager. Still pretending the real world didn’t exist, that she could drink all day and as long as she showed up for a gig or two, everything would be okay. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t want it to seem okay, she wanted her life to be okay. She wanted to feel like she wasn’t trapped in a cycle that always led to her alone in her apartment and drinking until she passed out or sleeping with people she would never see again just to feel something. To feel like some part of her life was real and not just an endless loop of mistakes.
And if she was being honest with herself, that’s why she was here. Because Rob had his own shit to deal with, but he had it figured out. He had the wife and 2.5 kids and the goddamn picket fence and Flo wanted it too. She wanted stability and as much as she hated saying it, love. The loneliness carved a hole in her chest and she wondered if it was normal, to feel this alone when she was surrounded by friends and family that loved her. Bryson and Jensen had it figured out too, but the problem was that they invited her into it. They had her sit at their dinner table, she changed Alex’s diapers and helped Bryson teach him how to play the guitar. She was Aunty Flo for God’s sake, but as much as she loved them, she knew it wasn’t the same thing. And Rob, he was always so goddamn honest, sometimes he just told her what she had to do and he was always fucking right. Her hands shook when she hit the green call button, but her voice was clear as day when she asked –for probably the fiftieth time that morning– “Rob?”
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